


a bheith éad

by a_static_world



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 3x08 and 3x13, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Gwaine's shirts, Jealous Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), as there always is with these two, causing problems - Freeform, no mention of magic sorry, thats it thats the thing, they are just babies and i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23150836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_static_world/pseuds/a_static_world
Summary: Arthur wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t.
Relationships: (future), Gwaine & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 464
Collections: his name...merlin





	a bheith éad

**Author's Note:**

> Hi- the first part of this takes place during 3x08 (The Eye of the Phoenix) and the second during 3x13 (The Coming of Arthur: Part Two). Enjoy!

Arthur wasn’t jealous. 

He wasn’t, not when he was a prince and Gwaine was nothing but a... a thief, and a drunkard, and a cheapskate. Nevermind that-he was good with a sword, and had saved Arthur’s life more than once. He couldn’t possibly be jealous of free, easygoing, wonderful Gwaine. Or of the way Merlin was looking at Gwaine, the way Gwaine was looking at Merlin, like they had some inside joke Arthur wasn’t privy to. That was it, wasn’t it, it was that  _ they _ were purposefully teasing him. It’s in a prince’s job description; after all, dissent from _ peasants _ is hardly unexpected. You can’t please them all, and if Merlin and Gwaine wanted to have in-jokes without him, then they could be his guests. He couldn’t  _ control _ Merlin, heaven knows he’d tried, but, really, he could do better than  _ Gwaine _ , couldn’t he? What was it about Gwaine? Was it the carefree nature, the lack of responsibility, the goddamn low-laced shirts? (And Arthur had thought his were bad- some days, he almost wondered if Merlin had laced them looser while he was asleep.) For yes, there was Gwaine, settling by the fire, one whole nipple almost completely out, and there was Merlin, next to him,  _ pulling a leaf out of his hair- _

Jealousy is an ugly thing. 

Arthur, from his bedroll,  _ saw  _ Merlin’s eyes wander, watched as the other man’s gaze roved down Gwaine’s mostly-exposed chest, eyes glinting with something predatory and teasing and entirely un-Merlin-like. He laid there, pretending to be asleep, as Gwaine returned the looks, all hungry grin and sharp teeth.  _ Wished _ he was asleep as he heard Gwaine tug Merlin into the brush, low laughter echoing after them, each crackle of leaves underfoot driving a spike into Arthur’s gut. He tossed and turned, mind replaying the shine of Merlin’s hair in the firelight, the way he’d looked at Gwaine, all the shoves and smiles and looks he’d given that Arthur had just taken as Merlin being Merlin but were really-

How unfit of him, a prince, knight and heir apparent of Camelot, to be thinking or even caring about what his manservant does in his free time. Doesn’t matter that he’d never seen Merlin’s body in the way that Gwaine surely was now, though Merlin had been dressing him for years. Doesn’t matter that, however much he denied it, he truly thought he  _ cared _ for Merlin. How foolish, Arthur, to believe that anything could have ever happened between you. A prince and a servant- and two men, to boot. Imagine the way Uther would react. 

_ He might drop dead, if I’m lucky. _

Treason. That was treason, and Arthur needed sleep and a hot meal and his own bed. Badly, if his increasing anger at his foolish, stubborn, adorable,  _ idiot _ manservant was anything to go by. 

The next morning it seemed too much to bear. Merlin was practically  _ glowing _ , for fuck’s sake, and Gwaine had a smug, stupid look of male-entitlement on his face that Arthur was all too familiar with it. As he swaggered off to piss, Arthur couldn’t help but say something. 

“Have fun last night?”

“Oh, yeah. Gwaine taught me loads about swordplay, I really think I’m starting to get the hang of it!”

“Swordplay, is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“What? Arthur- oh, oh no.” Merlin’s eyes went wide as Arthur shook his head, anger boiling low in his stomach. 

“No, no, you don’t have to lie to me, Merlin, it’s quite alright. I understand completely.”

“No, Arthur, it really wasn’t like that. I asked Gwaine to give me some  _ literal _ sword-fighting tips, since I figured you’d just, you know. Mock me at best and say no at worst.”

Arthur swore he felt his heart splinter at this. Not break, never broken, but the wedge driven into it inched ever deeper at Merlin’s sudden vulnerability. Before he could even process what an absolute  _ ass _ he must’ve been to make Merlin feel this way, the other man was up and gone, muttering something about breakfast and brushing Gwaine’s shoulder with his hand as he passed, in a way that, in light of what had just happened, definitely did  _ not _ make Arthur’s jaw tense. Not even a little. Gwaine settled heavy on the ground beside him, stretching out his legs and groaning obscenely in a manner that made even Arthur’s ears turn pink. Gwaine only grinned and poked the fire before turning to face the prince. 

“So, what’d you say to Merlin that made him look like that?”

“And who are you, to know him so well?”

“Princess, he wears his heart on his  _ face _ , for hell’s sake. It’s a wonder he manages t’keep  _ any  _ secrets at all.” 

Arthur had the good graces to be ashamed, at least, as a look of realization and horror bloomed on Gwaine’s face.

“You thought we were  _ fucking _ , didn’t you? I promise, I’d never try to take your Merlin from you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you- we’d all be lucky if someone  _ ever _ loved us that much.” 

Another day, another one-two punch in the life of Arthur Pendragon. Gwaine was babbling now, as flustered as Arthur had ever seen him, going on about how Merlin had found him just to rescue Arthur, how he’d offered to teach him some sword movements so he wouldn't be entirely defenseless. 

“I- thank you for this, Gwaine. This kindness will not go unrewarded.”

“Arise, Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot.”

Arthur watched from the corner of his eye as Merlin beamed, sandwiched between Gwen and Gaius and looking to all the world like a man most unlikely to be meeting his death in less than twenty-four hours. And if they were to die, well, damnit, it wouldn’t be without this. Arthur strode over to Merlin, grabbing his face and kissing him for all he was worth. Kissing him like how he’d been imagining for  _ years _ , watching and waiting and wanting. The knights whooped and hollered as Merlin’s hands threaded into his hair, and he was vaguely aware of Gwen and Gaius beaming behind them, but then Merlin started doing things with his tongue and Arthur was lost to the world. 

“You have no  _ idea _ how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that.” Merlin grinned, moving his hands to Arthur’s hips as Arthur rested their foreheads together. His eyes flicked up, and he stifled a grin before dropping his head down to Arthur’s shoulder.

“Gwaine is making fun of me behind my back, isn’t he.”

“Gwaine is making fun of you behind your back, yes.” 

Arthur whirled around, glaring halfheartedly at the other man, too preoccupied with Merlin’s hand still at his waist to really put any heart into it. He didn’t, however, fail to catch Lancelot’s comforting hand on Gwaine’s shoulder, or the bitter twist to the other man’s expression, hastily covered by a grin as he wheeled to congratulate the other newly-minted knights.  _ Or  _ Lancelot’s other hand around Guinevere’s waist.

He went to pull Gwaine aside later that night, intending to thank and possibly console the other man. He gingerly lifted a sleeping Merlin from where he lay against Arthur’s shoulder, wrapped in a Pendragon crimson cloak. Arthur took the moment-of which, he felt, there were precious few left-to risk a rather proprietary touch, skating his finger along the cheekbone and down to trace the cupid’s bow of the man he loved. Merlin’s eyelids fluttered, and his mouth quirked up in response to the finger resting there. He looked, to Arthur, the perfect representation of what Camelot could be,  _ would _ be. Peaceful. Strong. Drooling, just a little, or maybe that was just Merlin. 

“Arthur.” Gwaine called out across the hall, and Arthur winced at the way it echoed. He tried to wipe most of the lovesick expression off his face before he got to Gwaine, but, by the tilt of the other man’s mouth and the set of his jaw, he was failing miserably. So he opted to paste a grin on and sat himself on the floor next to Gwaine. 

“Listen, Gwaine, if I’d’ve known how you felt-”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sire. We both know he’d only ever be happy with you, no need to play chivalrous with me. Plus, I’d fight dirty for him, so be glad he picked you.” Gwaine tipped Arthur a wink, saucy enough to make him blush and Gwaine enough to make him relax. He’d known, of course, that Gwaine wasn’t going to steal Merlin from him; sometimes, though, it was better to have explicit confirmation. He nodded, and just as he was moving to go back to Merlin, Gwaine began to speak again.

“‘Sides, I rather think Percival and I will get on fighting well.” And Arthur couldn’t possibly miss the way Gwaine glanced sidelong down the row of bedrolls, or the way Percival stirred at his name on Gwaine’s lips. 

“Maybe he’d let you help him oil his arms before the battle tomorrow.”

Arthur laughed as Gwaine’s eyes went slightly crossed, and as he threw out a hand to steady himself- whether joking or serious, however, Arthur couldn’t tell. He thought he heard something about “if I was only so lucky” as he retreated to his own bedroll. Merlin was awake when he got back, eyes wide in the darkness and chin resting delicately on his knees. Arthur passed a hand through his hair before lying down, marveling in the simple fact that he could  _ do  _ that now. He felt Merlin lie down next to him, gingerly, as if he was unsure of his place and, well, we can’t go on having that, now can we? Arthur only pulled him closer, draping an arm over the taller man’s waist and pressing his forehead to Merlin’s chest. 

“Thank you, Arthur. For- talking to Gwaine. I told him...before, that I was waiting for you, and I wasn’t sure he understood.”

“Oh, he understands. Keep an eye on him and Percival for me, will you?” Arthur mumbled into Merlin’s sternum, and he could’ve sworn he felt the man’s answering grin. Tomorrow there would be bloodshed, and horror, and gore. Tomorrow meant facing Cenred and his men, and whatever allies he’d picked up along the way. Tomorrow was for fear and sweat and tears and anger. Tonight, however, was for peace. It was for four new men knighted, new bonds forged, new brotherhoods begun. It was for the feeling of Merlin in his arms, soft and warm and breathing slow like the inevitable tomorrow was a non-issue. It was for Gaius, for Guinevere and Lancelot, for Percival and Gwaine, for Leon and Elyan and every knight he’d left behind. Tonight was for everything that they would fight for tomorrow. Arthur drifted off to sleep knowing that, somehow, they’d make it through just fine. Just like always. 

**Author's Note:**

> I cant stoooop  
> whatever !  
> the title is irish and (should) mean "to be jealous" or "jealousy" because irish just sounds cooler than English  
> find me on tumblr! @astaticworld! come talk to me about merthur or sambucky or anything-even coronavirus, because we're all stuck at home here  
> evangelily, anoddconstellation, my babies, thank you always


End file.
